Page 6 of Hunt for You

And no work history, which made zero sense.

It was like she’d dropped onto the planet at the age of ten, then disappeared again as soon as she got her degree, six or seven years ago. No birth certificate that I could find, definitely no marriages. She had to have a legal name and identity I was, as yet, unaware of.

That was okay. I liked a challenge. A lot.

And, of course, I was still working on the darker side of her online life. I knew there’d be a real harvest there. It was a helluva lot harder to pin down, though. I’d been stalking her profile in the dark web forum we shared since the day wemet, but it didn’t save history. Public chats only stayed visible for twenty-four hours, then were wiped. So except for our direct messages, and the homework I’d done following her in real time both online and in person, she was an enigma.

Fucking fascinating.

And that was a problem.

I felt the clench of arousal low in my belly when she sat down on the bench to do some curls and opened her knees, and my brain immediately conjuredeverythingunder those shorts.

Or tried to, at least. There were too many questions still unanswered.

My heart was beating faster, which it always did when I was stalking prey. But she shouldn’t have affected me so deeply yet, because I hadn’t actually decided whether to take her or not.

This was what I affectionately called theinterviewstage: Seeing whether she was realistic about what she wanted—and just how much she was lying to me. Because everyone lied some. The question was whether they did it to protect themselves fromeveryone, or just to misdirect me.

Was she a desperate woman looking for that heady rush that only danger could bring?

Or was she a manipulative bitch getting her kicks out of toying with a man online?

I didn’t know yet. That wouldn’t have been a problem—I was a patient man. But the way my soul sucked towards her the moment she showed up, and the resistance I now felt in my skin the second I started thinking about leaving, definitely was.

She was mytype.

I couldn’t decide if that would make this whole fucking game easier, or harder. Andthatwas a problem. Because she wanted me to kill her.

I needed my head clear. I needed to be decisive. I needed to be in control of every step of this journey.

I didn’t need to keep wondering what she looked like under that hoodie.

Nope.

Nope, nope,nope.

Shaking my head and taking hold of my balls—metaphorically—I let the weights I’d been using clank back to earth and pushed off the machine.

It was time to go. She wasn’t right. Or rather, she wastooright. I wasn’t going to be able to disconnect from this one and that made the whole endeavor way too dangerous forme.

I’d already packed my stuff up and slung my backpack over my shoulder and was wiping my forehead with the little towel, looking for the route through the machines that would take me to the door without crossing her path, or being obvious about avoiding her, intending to go home, block her profile, and never speak with her again—even if that thought did give me a little pang. But as I was weaving between machines and drinking from my waterbottle, keeping my eyes off of her and my head slightly turned away, one of the gym bums who was here to build uselessmuscle for the sake of it, made a sly comment to her and her head jerked up.

It was reflex, when someone moved that quickly, to check and see where the danger came from.

“I’m good,” was all she said. She didn’t even look the guy in the eye. But that meant that her face was turned a little towards me and even though she didn’t look at me either, I could see her clearly.

See the empty, hollow darkness behind those startling eyes.

I sucked in a breath and my step faltered. And right then I knew I was fucked. Because that was the moment I started planning how to intercept her in broad daylight without her seeing my face.

It was my favorite tease. And the way I introduced myself to prey whenever possible.

And I shouldn’t have been planning that for her.

But damn… Iwantedto see light behind those eyes. Even if it was only the spark of survival fear.

So I kept moving, and I left without looking back. But I didn’t leave the property—just that room.

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